


Interruptions

by MelindaCoulson4



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Protectiveness, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 13:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelindaCoulson4/pseuds/MelindaCoulson4
Summary: A morning at Melvalds turns interesting for Joyce with the appearance of an injured Hopper. Set between S2 and S3





	Interruptions

"Shit," Joyce whispered, a bit in outrage and a bit in annoyance.

The sticker had ripped coming out of the price gun. It stuck partially to the can in her hand. The small neon orange paper had a split down the middle. She dug her fingernail underneath the corner and peeled it off. It came away stuck to the tip of her finger. She wiped it absentmindedly on the side of her vest.

That made 71 marked cans of shaving cream on the shelf. All were at half price now for the going out of business sale. She sighed eyeing the rest of the aisle, only a thousand more products to label. She'd only just started. It was going to be a long day.

 _Bang_.

The noise caught her off guard. She flinched and nearly dropped the price gun in her hand. Bang. It came again loud and emanating from the front of the store. She recognized what it was then. Someone was knocking against the front display windows.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang_. The impatient rapping came again.

Glancing up, she checked the clock that hung on the wall to her right. 7:44. Still 15 minutes left until the store officially opened. She would ignore it. Whoever it was could wait. Eventually they'd go away.

What could anyone possibly be in such dire need for at Melvalds anyway?

Her imagination ran with the idea. Maybe Mrs. Jacowski needed some kitty litter for her calico Jiggy. She'd been on the receiving end of dozens of unsolicited cat Polaroid presentations. Or perhaps Ray Deetz dropping in to grab sodas for his sons because 'that's all he could get them to agree to drink'. The people would come up with any excuse yet none valid of course. They had no respect.

Annoyance prickled at her and added to the pounding in her head. She was exhausted. In the last three weeks almost every single other employee here had quit, abandoning the store in favor of Starcourt. Naturally, she had to pick up the slack. At home, things weren't much better.

Everyone was on a different schedule. They were like three bustling trains that sometimes ran on tracks that were alongside each other but never converged.  
Jonathan was busy with work at the Post. When he wasn't there he was hanging around with Nancy. Will wasn't much better. He was constantly out with the other kids. They lived and breathed for Starcourt.

Last night had been different. She heard Will puttering around the house. It always made her anxious. He hadn't done that since last September. It'd instantly catapulted her into panic. _Something is wrong, Joyce._ What if. What if. She'd laid in bed thinking, the pit in her stomach tugging at her.

It was difficult not to get up to check on him. To ask what's wrong, baby. The question was engrained in her. It was a habit that had gone on for years. But Will had specifically told her over and over again that he wasn't a baby anymore, so she was trying to respect that.

Ultimately with all the difficulty it entailed she held back. No cries came. Nor any calls for help. Still she couldn't sleep. That's when the other thoughts came. The familiar guilt and grief hit hard. It was all consuming. She lie awake, heart heavy in her chest until the time came to get ready for her shift.

The noise started up again. Another round of bangs came. They were much more forceful.

 _Assholes_. It left her fuming. "Have you people ever heard of waiting for one god damn minute?" She muttered with the knowledge that no one would actually hear her.

It didn't go away this time.

They were pounding so hard that the bell rattled noisily against the door frame and that made it much worse. It couldn't be ignored anymore. The next time they might break right through and that was a mess she wasn't interested in cleaning up.

With steam blowing out of her ears, she all but threw the sticker gun in frustration. It clattered against the metal shelf. She stomped towards the front of the store, passing rows of stock. There was an end cap of 4th of July decorations that she'd set up a week ago. Careening around the corner, she swiped it with her elbow. A bag of confetti poppers dropped off the edge.

The bangs continued. Each one went straight to the muscles in her shoulders, almost like a pinch. She could picture the closed sign rattling against the window from the force.

By the time she made it to the end of the next aisle over she was already shouting. "We're _not_ -

The rest died in her throat.

There was a familiar figure at the door. In uniform and clearly frustrated, his fist repeatedly made contact with the door. It was Hopper. She paused in place, her wide eyes taking him in. At the sight of her he stopped pounding, but rested his large hand on the outside of the door.

There was no question, he was here to see her and needed to now. Sure he visited her nearly everyday but never with such urgency. Still somewhat charged up, she marched up to the glass and tugged at the  
door handle. A small gap formed but not enough for anything to get through except for a wave of hot air.

"Shit," she muttered, forgetting herself. It was the whole purpose for the noise in the first place. The door was locked. His presence had thrown her and caused her brain to malfunction. Rushing towards the register, she grabbed the keys off the counter-top. Twisting it in the lock, the bolt popped open and she let him in.

As he entered, she saw it. There was a line of blood on the left side of his face. It was a strip like someone had held a knife to his head and slashed the tip across. The sun had risen with full summer flair this morning. There was no mistaking the mark on his face. "Your-

"Yea, it's been a day," he huffed, acknowledging her shock.

For the second time this morning she peeked at the clock. It was 7:47 now.

He looked thoroughly pissed. Not targeted at her but in a general sense. "Where's the bandaids?"

She wondered what could've put him in such a state. Too focused on him, it took her a moment to respond. Bandaids. That was first aid. "Aisle 3."

He took off that way. She followed close behind.

His long legs transfered into wider strides, allowing him to storm through the store much faster than her. By the time she caught up he'd already picked out a tin of bandaids.

"What happened?" She asked full of concern and confusion. The cut looked fresh. The possibilities of what caused it were endless.

He was in uniform. She wondered if someone had been stupid enough to think they could face off against Hopper. That would most likely be someone with the help of drunken courage, which left the usual suspects at the Hideaway or Eddie's. There were plenty of beligerant drunks to choose from those crowds.

Moving on to the rubbing alcohol, he bent over and studied the array of bottles. "You know how I told you that El has an obsession with Mike and you said it was harmless?" He looked at the label of the bottle in his hand, then put it back on the shelf.

She had said that. Right here in the store, in fact. _Come on, It's harmless, Hop_ , her words echoed in her mind.

"Yes," she confirmed, hesitantly, at a loss for what to think. El and Mike's relationship was a frequent stressor for him, but she failed to see the connection.

"Well not harmless anymore. I see your broken pencil mess and raise you a phone thrown at my head." He selected another bottle.

Her mouth fell open. _El had made the mark?_ "She didn't..." Joyce said in surprised disbelief.

The broken pencil mess had been Will's doing. He'd gotten into the habit of leaving colored pencils everywhere. They broke and he abandoned them on the living room floor, on the kitchen counter and table, and all over her car without ever cleaning them up. It wasn't just that. There were balls of crumpled up paper and comics along with the pencils popping up around the house nearly everyday.

Will had entered the messy teenage boy stage, whereas El had entered the obsession with teenage boys stage. Or, more specifically, the obsession with Mike Wheeler stage.

Hopper had told her several times about how his phone was constantly attached to El's ear. She was always yapping away to Mike for hours on end when she was home. And when she was out she was likely with Mike. They were far more than attached to the hip as Hopper had complained several times.

While popping open the tin of bandaids, he continued: "oh yes she did. Or at least if she threw it I would've had a little warning."

She glanced at him sharply. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Blindly, he tried placing the bandage over the cut. It covered the cut only partially. He'd even forgone the alcohol to clean it.

There was a ladder pushed into one of the corners at the back of the store. She went in search of it, then rolled it over. The sole of her tennis shoe slipped down the lock on the wheel to hold it in place.

"Here. Sit," she offered.

"Why? It's fine."

She stared at him incredulously. In a typically male fashion, he'd just slapped the bandaid on without a care.

With a huff he relented and sat down on one of the lower steps so she could meet him eye to eye.

In one quick swipe she ripped the bandaid off.

"Ow!" He whined.

She touched his face, brushing the stubble at his chin. She could see the spot better from this angle. The phone had nicked him right above the eyebrow. His skin was scraped off in a nearly perfect diagonal line. Nothing worrisome, but he probably wouldn't want a scar.

She dabbed the alcohol against his temple. "How did it happen?" She asked, somewhat hesitant to hear his answer. Raising a teenager was one thing, but raising one that could do the things El could. Well, it opened up a whole new slew of issues. Things between him and El had been heading towards a blow up for a while now. His patience had been tested over and over again by those kids. El pushed his limits on a daily basis.

Earlier in the week he said he was going to start weaning El off the phone and the supercom. His first idea was to rip the phone off the wall and toss it and the supercom into Lover's Lake as a symbolic gesture. It earned an amused chuckle from her, but she'd warned him not to cut El off completely. Teenagers were some of the cleverest people in the world when they really wanted something.

"Tried the limit thing. Now I'm a murderer of love," he sighed and shook his head.

Her fingers paused their ministrations. Murderer of love. That was a new one. It was creative and sufficiently dramatic enough. "Did she really say that?"

"She screamed it. Then just stared at me all fuming."

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "And she just tossed it at your head?" Joyce hadn't ever seen that side of El firsthand. But by Hopper's description she had an explosive almost unlimited power.

Mom, she's basically a superhero, Will had told her once.

"Well. No." His eyes flickered away from hers, focusing entirely too much on the shelf at his side. Clearly he was hiding something. For a cop he wasn't the best at schooling his features.

"Well, what then?" She asked, pausing her patch-up job.

"It was time to get off the phone and she didn't listen. She wouldn't let go of it. So I helped her end the conversation." He spoke slowly like he wanted to avoid the whole subject now.

She cringed inside, having the foresight to make her own conclusion. "And how did you do that?"

"Hung it up myself," he murmured.

"Hopper!"

He scrambled to defend himself. "I told her to give it to me. But no she wouldn't let it go. She had to play phone tug of war with me which resulted in this." He pointed at the cut as if she hadn't been helping him with it this entire time.

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"I thought I would get some silence finally. She was on it for over an hour!"

"That is so wrong," she told him. He was in an ineffective habit of bossing the kids around like Hopper the Chief instead of Jim the dad.

His head shook so hard it rivaled a bobble head. "No. No. No. You don't understand what it's like. That kid is like a leach on her. When he's over all they do is hold hands and kiss. And even when he's not around he's still there. _Mike, I wish you were still here. What are you doing now? Oh right, talking to me on the radio cuz that's all we do! Mike, I miss you_ ," he mocked. He leaned towards her, inquiring. " _How_ can they miss each other after spending 12 hours a day together and another 5 talking on the phone?" There was a red tint to his cheeks now.

"They're excited to be with each other that's all," she explained. Sure it wasn't the best to be subjected to your kid's PDA, but they couldn't be locked up forever. El had spent enough time all alone. It wasn't difficult to figure out why she clung to Mike with such intensity.

"You don't get it. It's an _obsession_ , Joyce." Hopper's large hand scrubbed over his beard or lack thereof; she still wasn't used to his new look. "I knew this would happen. See, I should've made them end it," he threatened as his fingers curled into a fist on his lap. That was a surefire sign that his stress was building. He was going to get himself all good and riled up right here and now in aisle 3.

Her hands hovered over his forehead, new bandaid primed for landing, but still he wouldn't stop shaking his head.

"You would never," she told him. He put on a good show but she knew deep down he wouldn't have it in him to crush El's heart in that way.

"I would," he argued, bushy eyebrows pressing together.

"And now she's out there meeting up with him again God knows where," he exclaimed, tossing a hand out. As if ' _out there_ ' meant halfway across the country unsupervised and running wild. When really they were probably just sitting in Karen and Teds basement.

Needing her hands free, she stuck the bandaid to her vest. "Stop moving so much," she ordered, grabbing onto both sides of his face to emphasize the point.

That brought his eyeline straight into hers. Swirling pools of bright blue met her head on. It was difficult to look away. She found herself leaning into him. Her hip brushed the side of his thigh. The space around them seemed to heat up quickly then.

Instinctually her eyes dipped down to his mouth. His lips parted slightly. Her thumbs brushed a soothing pattern against his jaw seemingly on their own accord.

His leg shifted on the step and with it came a metal clanging. They both jerked away. A set of several keys had fallen from his pants pocket and onto the step below.

 _What are you doing, Joyce?_ Her hands quickly released his head. Still watching her, he swallowed hard and reached down for the keys.

She averted her gaze, instead busying herself with a new bandaid and it's packaging. Her fingers fumbled as she tried splitting open the paper sleeve.

"The bike is going next," he declared, getting back on subject. His voice came out much quieter than before. His thick arms crossed over his chest, straining the sleeves of his tan uniform.

She smiled fondly, knowing he wouldn't actually follow through with the threat. El loved her bike. Hopper took great pride in how he'd been the one to teach her how to ride it.

"And that kid is just a bad influence plain and simple. Showing up at the house after I've explicitly told him no," he mumbled, bringing up the worst incident of memory. When he was particularly pissed off he would resort to calling Mike that kid. She could practically feel his blood boiling.

One night, a few weeks ago Hopper had caught Mike sneaking in through the front door. That incident prompted a twelve am phone call that caused her heart to nearly explode out of her chest before she knew what it was about. The reality of Mike having access to Jane unsupervised sent Hopper into a frenzy. She'd talked him down from wanting to charge over to the Wheeler's in the Blazer and wring Ted's neck right there on the spot.

"I think everyone involved in that learned their lesson. That's not going to happen again," she assured him. At her insistence Hopper had indeed waited until the morning to rip into Ted and Karen. He went over to their house to have a conversation about ground rules. Of course they had no idea of half the things that had been happening. Hopper had threatened to make Mike spend a ' _night in the slammer courtesy of Hawkins Police_ ' if anything like that happened again. It must've struck the fear of God into the Wheeler's because after that Mike had a strict curfew. The agreement didn't prevent a limit on phone calls, which resulted in a major spike in the time the kids spent talking.

She finished sticking the bandaid over his cut. Her hand slipped down to his shoulder. She brushed her thumb over the hard, tensed muscle.

"I've got half a mind to lock her up in the house for the rest of the summer. No scratch that the rest of her life!" He exclaimed, body going into fight mode again.

The old wound was rising to the surface once again. Clearly he hadn't moved passed it. "I told him! I told him not to push me and I find him tip toeing around my house in the middle of the night...hanging all over my daughter." He sucked in a breath. "Trying to go in her room!" He roared, continuing to rile himself up. "I'm telling you, Joyce, It's like a disease that keeps getting worse and worse. What am I supposed to do!" With that he was up and pacing the aisle like a caged lion at a zoo.

The loss of control was something he struggled with. She had nothing but sympathy for him. The past couple of months had brought so much improvement from him. From keeping El hidden to having her roam free. It was a hard thing to grapple with after everything their kids had been through.

To compromise was the only way to approach the situation. Or else he and Jane would continue to butt heads until another blow up happened. "Set actual, specific rules for the phone. And let her know if she can't follow them then there won't be any phone time."

"There won't be any phone time anyway. It's in the back of the Blazer and she'll be lucky if it even stays there." He wagged his finger as if El was there with them.

"If you cut her off completely it'll only get worse," she warned him. "Just sit down and talk to her about it."

She remembered first meeting El, the quiet girl who didn't have anyone. Now she had a father who cared so much and had a giant-sized heart. He just had trouble showing it properly.

"That's just it! She won't listen. She'll have him there and they'll just whisper and giggle the whole time." His upper lip curled in disgust as if he was remembering a specific instance.

Without thinking, she voiced her thought:  
"It's kind of sweet how much they mean to each other."

He paused, frozen mid-stride. Utter betrayal crossed over his face. "Sweet. So when I turn up dead because I told them to cut it out you'll be at my funeral to say it's sweet. Good to know."

She smiled at his exaggeration. "It's her first love," she told him, choosing to play devil's advocate. She had a weakness for El. After a lifetime's worth of being on lockdown El deserved to have a bit of fun. A little kissing wasn't so bad. However, it may send Hopper into cardiac arrest soon.

"Oh _god_ ," he groaned, fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "God no. Don't talk about love when they're that age." He banged his hand on the nearest shelf, rattling a line of Advil.

"We were that age," she said before she could really think it through.

His eyes widened, taken aback by her mention of their history. It took him a moment to formulate a response. "No. No. We were sophomores," he said with an air of finality.

Failing to see his point, she squinted at him. "How does that make any difference?"

"Because it just does alright? That's 365 extra days of maturity." His voice was different, changed like it always did when talking about the past.

Maturity was an interesting choice of word. She could remember sneaking cigarettes from their parents and drinking beer in John Mooney's basement. Those times had trapped them in a whirlwind of questionable decisions. Their kids were angels compared to them.

A thickness came over them, like a blanket of nostalgia. She felt suspended in the moment. All too aware of him there.

What they had was short but sweet. She could remember constantly thinking about him. There was always a spark between them that never seemed to go away even now.

Back then it all went to hell. Lonnie came into the picture and everything turned into a giant mess. She knew those hurt feelings were still there for him. Before all this, before El when Hopper first came back to town they desperately tried to avoid each other. It was a difficult feat in Hawkins. He never once set foot in Melvalds then.

That was why they never brought it all up now. It was too much and it was buried down deep for both of them. Rehashing it could be detrimental to what they had now.

"Anybody working here or is everything free?" A new voice rang through the store.

She hadn't heard the bell chime or the footsteps. Nevertheless Bruce was standing there a couple of feet from them.  
Their bit of privacy was broken.

 _Fuck_ , Joyce thought. _Of all the possible people, why him?_

Bruce stood with his hands on his hips, watching them. There was a slimy grin plastered on his face. And those eyes, somehow it always seemed like he was leering at every woman in his vicinity at all times. Lucky her.  
  
"Oh. We're not open just yet," she said in her apologetic voice only used for customer service.

"Seems like you are. You must make some exceptions." He said in his smooth charismatic voice ( _as told by himself_ ).

He turned and eyed Hopper with interest. "What happened there chief? Anything I need to know about?" He asked, running a finger across his own eyebrow. He came into town like a storm. Squashing anyone in his path and demanding attention all the while. There was always an ulterior motive with him.

If there was one thing that Hopper hated it was a weasel like that. Bruce was a perfect new target to take out all his frustrations on. It made for a volatile situation at this moment. She glanced at Hopper, calculating his reactions. He hid it well but she could tell what was brewing just under the surface.  
  
"Nope domestic issue. Same old boring Hawkins," Hopper answered.

"That's right. But sometimes I can't help feeling like there's something else....bubbling just under the surface begging to be noticed." Bruce stared straight at her as if making it clear that he would be willing to get the truth from her by any means necessary.

It had her feeling uneasy like he knew something more. Ever since he approached her about Will and the boy who came back to life article she'd avoided contact with him at all costs.

"Sorry by the way. I didn't mean to interrupt..... _this_." His mouth curled up even farther, turning into an unsettling grin. There was a clear implication in the way the words left him. Like he'd caught them locked in a passionate embrace on the brink of ripping each other's clothes off.

Her mouth dropped open. That's what he thought they were doing? Feeling suddenly exposed, words came tumbling out. "What - no. _No_ ," she denied, incredibly flustered. She could picture the next Hawkins Post headline in bold print: Joyce Byers getting it on with Chief Jim Hopper while on the clock. With the swirling rumors, enough people in town already thought that.

She knew what they all really thought of her. That she had some kind of magnetism that pulled everyone in her life into a swirling vortex of hell. First, it was poor Lonnie Byers that she drove to drink and cheat. Then it was single mother basket case that lost her son on purpose. And finally it was Bob getting mauled alive. That one she did take the blame for. It still had a tight hold on her.

"I'm just gonna browse," Bruce said, turning away and still smirking.

Hopper had moved closer, practically hovering over her like he could sense something wasn't right.  
  
She stared at the floor, imagining Bob's blood was everywhere. Those animals ripped into him over and over again. She could hear his painful screams. There was nothing she could do. He was gone.

A thick knot formed in her throat. She wished to be anywhere but here right now. It was suffocating. Her eyes watered.

"Hey," Hopper called tapping her arm and bringing her back down to reality. There was a lit cigarette cradled between his fingers. He brought it closer to her, clearly offering it up.

Grabbing it, she practically swallowed it down, forgetting that it was his unfiltered camel. A rush of overwhelming smoke filled her lungs. Coughs racked her small frame.

"Every time," he whispered, taking the cigarette back. The skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement.

Hopper grabbed the bottle of alcohol and the tin of Band-Aids. "I'll pay for these," he said around the cigarette in his mouth.

She was still trying to catch her breath as they started towards the front of the store.

An unspoken agreement passed between them. They couldn't talk anymore - really talk. Bruce was just the type of person to hide right around the corner so he could eavesdrop on their conversation.  
  
They walked side-by-side, occasionally brushing arms. At some point she'd been able to start sensing how he was feeling. It had become a regular occurrence in the past couple of months. And so she detected the stress still inside of him.

"Hop, you're doing a good job," she told him.

She went behind the register and watched him set the items down. He took a long drag of the cigarette.

"I mean it. Really," she said, reassuring him.

"I'm only getting by 'cause I have you to help me," he said.

A slight heat rose in her cheeks. They'd become much close this past year, helping each other out. He would watch Will sometimes when work became too hectic. Hopper would ask for her advice with El about all sorts of things.

They talked about the kids a lot, but it was more than that. He made sure to always ask her how she was doing and wouldn't let her brush him off. He really wanted to know because he cared. It was that big heart of his again.

He was staring at her. "Look I was thinking maybe we could go-"  
  
"On second thought could you help me find something, sweetheart?" Bruce poked his head around the corner.

She saw Hopper straighten out of the corner of her eye, mouth forming a thin line.

"Uh sure." That's what her mouth said but the rest of her body begged her otherwise. In the end she made herself move. She still had a job to do and part of that had always been to deal with unsavory people.

Reluctantly she met him at the head of aisle 1. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm in need of some pens. Mine are always disappearing on me," he said. The 'I'm a busy man, you know' went unspoken.

Pens. The office supplies. Thankfully nearby in aisle 6. The further she moved with Bruce the less secure she felt. She could feel Hopper's eyes drilling a hole in the back of her head as she walked to the area.

"The ballpoint kind. Only black. Got any of those?"

"Um yea." They were on the bottom shelf within her reach. She crouched down to pick a pack up. There were stacks of blue that she sorted through, but finally found an all black package. Something brushed her lower back.

"Careful," Bruce whispered from above. The contact lingered and trailed lower.

Alarm bells flared up. She snapped upright, knocking the hand off of her. Too shocked to speak, she stepped back.

Bruce leaned in, eliminating all personal space and boxing her in between the shelf and his body. A predatory smile crossed his face.

"Ya know Jonathan's got real potential. I could put in a good word for him." His eyes ran all over her.

It dawned on her what he meant. A bit of quid pro quo.

_I could put in a good word for him if....._

Usually she would be willing to brush this off. Out of all people she didn't need anymore problems to deal with, but a line had been crossed. She stared up defiantly.  
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She yelled.

"What'd you say to her?" Hopper's booming voice asked.

Turning, Bruce let go of the shelf. Hopper was nearly on top of him. And even with Bruce's lanky height, Hopper still towered over him. Hopper's eyes had gone dark and murderous. Clearly he'd followed them and heard it all.

"Oh just talking about how well Jonathan's doing since he joined my team." The lie slipped from Bruce's lips effortlessly and spoke of his experience with this sort of thing. Nothing to see here.

Hopper was not amused. Or fooled. "The store's closed. You need to get out. Now," he ordered, nostrils flaring.

"Jim..." Bruce began, like they were pals. This was not a man who was used to hearing the word no.

"It's Chief Hopper. Don't make me tell you again." The riled up Hopper from five minutes ago paled in comparison to this one. He was seething with rage, waiting for an excuse to deck Bruce.

"Alright. Alright. I see." Bruce put his hands up, relenting and playing it off like he hadn't just propositioned her.

It wasn't until he was out the door that she realized he somehow had the pens in his grip.

Nevermind that. She looked back at Hopper. His stare was charged with something electric. Something brewing underneath the surface. The anger had faded into nothing but care for her. All the years they'd shared were pilled up in that look. It was heavy with fondness. It took her breath away.

"Hop..." She trailed off, voice coming out shaky and unsure.

"Joyce!" A voice called out. This one she recognized. It was Donald.

The interruption was a curse yet also a giant wave of relief. She blew out a breath, steadying herself. "I'm here."

"What's this up here?" Donald's voice echoed.

"It's just my mess, Donald. Had a run in this morning," Hopper said, saving her from answering.

Donald appeared at the end of the aisle.  
"Oh, Jim," he greeted.

"It never ends around here," Hopper explained with his natural charisma. The change in Hopper was instantaneous. Chief Hopper was back. Their moment had fizzled out.

This time, their journey to the register was full of distance.

Taping the cash register, she entered the prices of his two items. "$1.35," she said, barely able to look up at him.

Their fingers brushed on the cash exchange.

_Look I was thinking maybe we could go..._

She fumbled putting the money in the cash drawer, too plagued by questions of what he was about to say before they were interrupted the first time. She had much to say, but Donald was right there hovering around them, oblivious to what he'd interrupted. It wasn't the right time.

"Thanks for the help. I'll talk to you later." Hopper darted out of the store before she could so much as blink.

With an uncomfortable tug in her stomach, she could do nothing but watch him go.

//End//

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews welcome :)


End file.
